


but how much can i hold (before it breaks me)

by gabriphales



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Multi, slight relationship tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: crowley's inconsolable on aziraphale's bad days. gabriel helps
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	but how much can i hold (before it breaks me)

**Author's Note:**

> honestly idek what this is

he gets twitchy like this. crowley always notices, he notices everything his angel does. the sharp, edging breaths he expels with every half-hearted shudder. his skin turns pale and sickly, unnervingly white, aside from his ruddy cheeks. and those - those are flushed beyond any average extent, reddened to the point he looks rather ill. 

crowley wants to hold his hand. he wants to try harder for him. but gabriel isn't here to help, not like he usually is, and it's terribly hard without him. aziraphale isn't the sort of person he can just _ask_ why he very clearly isn't feeling well. no, no he's much too reserved for that. he needs the subtle introspection of an angel as bloody uptight as him. someone who understands. someone who won't make a bigger fuss of things than they already are, by thinking too much, worrying too much, dwelling on every word spoken.

crowley isn't the best available option for this. and that hurts a little more to acknowledge than he'd like. but he's willing to give it his all, assisting in any way he can - he's already opened five jars, two bottles, three cans, and a particularly finicky cardboard box for aziraphale today. as well as dusting the bookshelves, washing the dishes, and shooing out any unwanted customers with his usual vaguely ominous demonic presence. 

it's no easy feat, especially when he's determined to complete it all without miracles. keeping this off of hell's radar is a necessity. they'll tease him endlessly for being 'whipped' otherwise. (a term crowley doesn't even _understand_ , much less appreciate.)

still, aziraphale finds a way to busy himself, despite crowley's troubles. his baking, at the very least, is a pleasant hobby. something he can enjoy without obligation. and crowley considers helping - or even just keeping him company, really. but aziraphale gives him this spaced-out look the moment he enters the kitchen, and his lower lip wobbles like he just might cry, and crowley - crowley can hardly bear the small _'hello, dearest,'_ he's greeted by.

it makes his chest burn, ribs cracking with the weight that floods his abdomen. he manages a smile, tries to look his very bravest, but aziraphale's still _sick,_ and he doesn't know how to fix it. doesn't even know how to make things better, soothe the sting until there's proper care for it.

he's not enough. he doesn't want to admit it. he'll _never_ be enough.

crowley has to excuse himself to the lounge. his hands curl into fists in his pockets as he grapples with the urge to rub his watery eyes.

he calls gabriel without thinking. there isn't anything more to do. he can't do this on his own, and gabriel has that way of helping without even really trying to. he's annoying, and loud, and makes every room he ever walks into feel smaller. but he's also well-intentioned. he'll know what to do. he always does, it seems.

(conveniently, in his fit of insecurity, crowley forgets the many times he's been the only sensible member of their little party. i.e., the incident with gabriel busting right through aziraphale's glass ceiling for a speedier, more dramatic entrance.)

the phone line crackles - aziraphale really needs to update his technology, it seems. modernize things just a tad. but gabriel's familiar voice is soon to fill what was starkly empty before, and crowley's chest burns in an entirely different way then.

his explanation is all it takes for gabriel to come home. _'be there in five,'_ he promises. crowley knows he means ten. ten seconds, that is.

the glass ceiling pointedly isn't broken this time.

aziraphale in gabriel's arms is never a sight to elicit jealousy, but sometimes - sometimes it pricks at crowley just the wrong way. when he's tired, and worn out, and very, _very_ scared both his partners have reason to abandon him altogether. it only seems right, after all. for two angels to be rid of sinful pollution. the venom sinking into their holy bond.

they wouldn't want him thinking that, crowley reminds himself. he slinks onto the couch, curling his knees up to his chest, and listening in on their conversation just a room over.

 _"have you had anything..."_ crowley roughly makes out, the last few words falling short of his reach.

_"just tea."_

ah, so they must be talking about food, then. aziraphale does have a habit of denying himself meals when he gets in a certain mood. loss of appetite, as he explains it. though crowley thinks it's more that he doesn't feel he deserves to enjoy things.

_"and is crowley... ?"_

_"i'm not sure. i know i must be worrying him."_

_"don't blame yourself."_

crowley wants to double over with guilt at that. he claws at the nape of his neck, scratching until the skin there threatens to break, bleed freely. of course aziraphale would fret over crowley. of _course_ he'd end up clued in, catching onto crowley's stumbling anxiety before he could stop him.

_"can you check up on him for me? please?"_

_"of course."_

crowley's chest tightens, his heart ramming faster as the door presses open. in steps gabriel, looking far more calm and collected than the situation calls for. he takes his expected seat next to crowley, patting the empty space between them with a self-assured smile. he knows he'll be able to work through crowley's irritability and embarrassment. he always does.

crowley, even in his current headspace, finds he loves him just a little bit more for that.

"you're shaking." gabriel notes, voice monotone, cooled.

"so is angel." crowley bites back. "he's the one who needs help."

"he wants you taken care of too, you know." gabriel reminds him. crowley knows he's only being honest, but something about it just breaks him. his composure finally cracks open, shameful tears budding as he lets himself be gathered in gabriel's arms. a hand rubbing between his shoulder blades, and another against the back of his head. grounding him, making him feel small, protected, _wanted_ despite his faults.

"he loves you. don't forget that. he loves you more than anything else in the world, really." 

crowley snickers. "except for you."

gabriel doesn't offer a reply.

"d'you think he'll be alright soon?" crowley asks him after enough time has passed that the silence is more grating than peaceful.

"of course. he just needed both of us here. if it were only me he would've been wanting you too." gabriel says.

"don't see how i'm of much help." 

"but he does." gabriel's quick to interject. "he does, and he loves you for it. i'll tell you a billion times over if i have to."

and crowley manages a small, toothy grin, the bite of his usual smarmy flavor coming back to it. he holds onto gabriel for the rest of the night, only gripping tighter when aziraphale pokes his head around the corner, and bustles over to join them. all three sleeping contentedly, wearing off the woes of the day. engrossed in one another, even when incapacitated. 

decidedly, by the next morning, aziraphale declares he feels much better. but gabriel sticks around for another two hours. just to be sure, he says, better safe than sorry. though crowley believes he's really just engaging a perfect opportunity to slack off from work, spend what time he can with his partners on earth.

and, truly, he can't fault him for that. he's grateful for the added company. grateful to be mended just as much as he mends. and grateful, _immeasurably_ grateful, to be loved.


End file.
